


Unidentified Subject

by honeyhurts



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: BDSM, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dom Spencer Reid, Dom/sub, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kink Exploration, Porn With Plot, Roleplay, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Spencer Reid, Unsub | Unknown Subject, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26262985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyhurts/pseuds/honeyhurts
Summary: Spencer was wrapped up in her. He would break her.(This is a filthy mess, have fun.)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 118
Kudos: 383





	1. Chapter One

“FBI! Put your hands where I can see them!”

This was wrong. All of it. Spencer had been so sure of the profile. They were looking for a white male in his 20s. He’d be abrasive and confrontational, leading him to be disliked by colleagues and peers. A drifter, someone who didn’t hold down a job for very long. However, he would be skilled with their hands, and probably had a background in technology, maybe even a degree in IT. He had to be smart, but aggressive. He.

He.

He.

His profile had been wrong.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In (Y/N)’s defense, she had evaded them for quite some time. No matter where they were, she was three steps ahead. 

She had not anticipated the roadblocks, however.

When every outlet in town had been barricaded off, she’d panicked. Only two steps ahead.

When the traffic stops started, she knew she was only one step ahead.

And when they ran her plates and came up with fakes, she knew they had her.

Running had not been smart, but there had been no other option. She floored the gas and shot straight for a highway. It didn’t matter where it led, only that it was fast. (Y/N) made it past two exits before they’d gotten her.

So there she was. Surrounded on all sides by black SUVs and a couple of feds. She considered trying to push past, but there wasn’t a gap for her to squeeze through less she wanted to plow through their ranks. 

“I said put your hands where I can see them!”

(Y/N) looked in her rear-view to see him. He was fairly tall with dark skin. Handsome and built. An action movie superhero if she had ever seen one.

His partner, however.

(Y/N) suspected he didn’t go out into the field very often. He towered over everyone around him, and seemed to be the only person ridiculous enough to wear a sweater vest to a bust.

Charming.

“I am not going to ask again. Put your hands up!” Action Hero roared.

Sighing, (Y/N) stuck both hands out of the window, showing the surrounding officers that she was unarmed before reaching for the outside door handle. She was immediately swarmed by uniforms, her arms being yanked behind her rather roughly. Handcuffs, Miranda rights, more manhandling, and then she was sat in the back of a patrol car.

“Bring her to Quantico, we will be leading her interrogation”, demanded Sweater Vest. He sounded almost bitter about it.

“Oh Quantico? And where is that, handsome?” 

His eyes were scathing when they found mine. His jaw twitched before he focused his attention back to the officer with whom he was speaking. “She is under federal investigation and will be handled accordingly. She is to be taken straight to our facility without delay or interruption. Am I clear?”

After a brief affirmative and goodbye, they were en route.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for making it this far!

(Y/N) had been staring at herself in the mirror for almost an hour. She knew someone was on the other side, watching her. Maybe multiple people. And she knew what they were trying to do. Get her uncomfortable, throw her off, take her outside of her comfort zone so that she slipped up when it came time to talk.

Which was now, apparently.

The two feds she had pegged at the scene walked in, and she saw it immediately. Action Hero would be bad cop, while Sweater Vest played good cop. Easy.

They took the seats across from her, slapping a stack of folders on the table just out of her reach. She knew better than to give them a second glance.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), my name is SSA Derek Morgan. This is Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

(Y/N) smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but…” she trailed off, raising her shackled hands. Neither man smiled. Perfect.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” began Spencer, opening the folder closest to him, careful to keep the contents out of her line of sight.

“Ask away Agent Reid.”

There it was. His fingers stalled from their place on the folder, and his jaw locked. (Y/N) smiled a bit wider.

Derek intercepted. “What is your relationship with Abigail Hill?”

She pulled her eyes from a very tense Dr. Reid. “I have none.”

Spencer scoffed. “Is that so?”

“Hm, it is. I’ve never met an Abigail Hill,” (Y/N) drawled. There it was again. That stiffness. It overcame him whenever she spoke. Like her voice alone set him on edge. “Why don’t you tell me what you think my relationship to her is? Jog my memory perhaps?”

It was Derek’s turn to grind his teeth. She was insufferable. A young girl’s life was on the line and he was wasting his time with small talk. “She’s only nine years old. Maybe that’ll help,” he ground out.

Spencer finally tore his eyes away from the file to watch her. He was here to profile her, after all. That’s when he saw it. Her eyes snapped to Derek, too fast to be casual. Too fast to be anything but surprise. That was something new, so different from the arrogance she had led with up until now. 

(Y/N) steeled herself. Breathe. “And why are you questioning me about a nine-year-old, Agent?” 

“She’s been missing for almost two weeks,” Spencer interjected, bringing her eyes back to him. “We have reason to believe you know something about it.”

Another brief flash of surprise. “I don’t know how my name came up in your suspect list, but I can assure you I have nothing to do with her disappearance.”

“But you know who does.”

“I don’t!” she cried. Her breathing had become sharper. Spencer kept his attention on her, mapping every detail. He closed the folder and stood.

“Sure you don’t.”

Derek began to follow him, snatching up the remaining files and heading for the door.

“There’s nothing in those,” (Y/N) called.

Derek and Spencer froze, only a few inches from the door. Spencer whirled around, his tone bordering on hostile.

“I’m sorry?”

She leveled the both of them with a look. “Those folders. They’re empty.”

It was now Derek who spoke. “And how do you figure that?”

A smile, pointed and toxic curled at the corners of her mouth. “There’s no labels. Surely the FBI has a couple hundred thousand, if not million, files. You expect me to believe anything would be left unlabeled? And besides that, I’m only 23. I don’t have enough records to fill up that many folders. You’re trying to scare me. You want me to think you know more than you do.”

Their shoulders had become straight, and their gazes had become firm. She had them.

“I expected more from two federal agents.” She turned her focus to Spencer. “Especially a doctor.”

He snapped. Spencer marched himself back towards the table, effectively playing right into her hand. “You think you’ve figured us out then?”

(Y/N) smirked. “I know I have.”

“Then enlighten me. What do you know?”

She had him. She so had him. “You’re profilers right? That’s what the BAU does. You build descriptions of your bad guys by studying what they do. But something about me irritates you. Surely you’ve done enough interrogations for this to be routine. What is it about me that bothers you?”

His breathing had picked up. Derek tried to call him off with a quick, “Spencer”. But he was pulled in. 

She had him. 

“What would you know?” he bit out.

“I know you’re a typical fed with a God complex, who can’t stand to be called anything besides ‘Doctor’ because that’s the one thing that sets you apart from the rest of your team. And those little insecurities of yours have pushed you to overcompensate, haven’t they? You have to be the best or else you’re just like the rest of them. So what is it about me that upsets your balance?”

“Reid, that’s enough. Let’s be done with this,” Derek tried again.

But still she pushed. “Maybe it’s not me.” She studied him for another moment. His hands were gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. She was getting close. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Spencer’s breath stilled. His mouth tightened to a thin line and his grip worsened.

(Y/N) grinned. “Of course it is. No one could disappoint you more than yourself. So what did you do, Dr. Reid?” she teased. “Let’s see… You’ve spent a considerable amount of energy trying to upset and throw me off. Why?” Another sick smile. “Because I threw you off!”

“Reid,” Derek wanted.

Bingo.

“Oh Dr. Reid. Did you get it wrong? Did you send these people after the wrong person?”

“I’m never wrong,” Spencer spat back.

“Is that so?” (Y/N) sat back, trying to keep the upper hand for as long as she could. “Then tell me, Doctor, what was your profile?”

Silence.

Even Agent Morgan had stilled, his hand still hovering above the door handle. 

Spencer visibly sunk in on himself for a moment. She had him.

“A white male-” he began.

“Incorrect”, (Y/N) chimed in.

Spencer took a moment to temper his anger before continuing. “-in his 20s, most likely with a background or degree in technology.”

“I’m a music major,” she smirked.

“He would have to have an SUV or truck to transport equipment and bodies.”

“I drive a Honda Civic. You pulled me out of it yourself.”  
“A spotty job history, consistent with a drifter lifestyle.”

“I’ve lived right here in D.C. since I was born.”

Spencer’s anger only grew. “Someone who had a history of abuse, most likely stemming from a dominant father figure, and a hostile upbringing.”

“I have a great relationship with my father. You’re welcome to ask him yourself if you’d like. I’ll even write down his phone number for you.”

Spencer slammed his palm down on the table and spun on his heel to leave.

He needed to rethink the profile.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you doing today? You drinking enough water?
> 
> (Spice is coming soon, I promise. Just gotta lay the groundwork first.)

Spencer knew Derek was right on his heels, could feel the irritation rolling off of him in tangible waves. Whether that was directed at him or the infuriating child in the next room, he wasn’t sure. 

“You want to tell me what the hell that was in there?”

It was directed at him, then.

Spencer sighed, and slowed his gait. “I don’t know. She just-”

“This isn’t about her, Reid. I’ve never seen you like that. I just don’t get it, man.” Derek was keeping pace now, almost crowding Spencer against the hallway wall. “I understand that you’re frustrated, but so am I. What’s important now is that we go adjust the profile-”

Spencer scoffed. “You mean fix the profile,” he spat bitterly. “We have to fix it because it’s wrong.”

“So what if it is? We have someone in custody. That’s something at least. So get yourself together so we can talk to the rest of the team.”

He sighed. Derek was right. Abigail was still missing and there would be no progress while he sulked. He squared his shoulders.

They had to tell the rest of the team what they had learned.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The team sat gathered around the round table. Emily had taken to the whiteboard littered in crime scene photos, refusing to pull her focus from it. 

“Abigail had been taken from school, but no one noticed until her parents couldn’t find her at pick-up. That must mean she went quietly. Our unsub would have to be someone she trusted and probably knew.”

“But (Y/N) insists she’s never met Abigail,” Derek added.

Hotch paused his reading of school accident reports to address him. “And do you believe her?”

Before Spencer could chime in with something snide and scathing, Derek answered. “I might.”

That sent the team into silence, save for Spencer who only threw his hands up. “You can’t be serious! She has something she’s hiding!”

“That doesn’t make her a murderer, Reid,” Derek leveled. “Think about it. She seemed surprised that she was even a suspect in something like this. And she doesn’t fit our profile.”

As per usual, JJ sided with Spencer. “She was pretty aggressive, though. Defensive, almost.”

“Not to mention how confrontational she was,” Reid snarked with an angry huff.

Derek stood then, moving to Emily’s side at the whiteboard. “She only lashed out after we told her about Abigail. And she never requested a lawyer. You know as well as I do that guilty people don’t face us unprepared.”

That brought Spencer to a pause. Hotch saw it first, the way his eyes began roving back and forth over nothing, something he only did when he was replaying and dissecting a memory. The team waited, as they always did, for whatever revelation the doctor was surely on the brink of.

“But she didn’t lash out after we told her about Abigail. She lashed out after we told her how old she was.”

A pause.

Then, “Garcia, can you run local medical records for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)? Specifically birth records.”

Emily startled. “You think she’s a mother?’

Derek went back over their conversation. “It would make sense, right?” He thought about her demeanor when she had learned Abigail’s age, that moment of terror before she smothered it, but not quickly enough for it to go undetected. Perhaps she had a nine-year-old of her own.   
That led to one tiny issue, however.

“If she’s a mother, it’s unlikely she’s behind the kidnapping. Especially if she seemed so concerned in your interrogation,” JJ provided. There it was. Another hole in the profile that none of them had anticipated. “Let me talk to her. Mother to mother. If she is hiding something, maybe I can appeal to her.”

It was definitely worth a shot.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) had counted another half hour before anyone else came to speak to her. This time, it was a pretty blonde, slim in build but with an athletic grace about her. Perfect for an FBI agent. 

“(Y/N)? Hello, I’m SSA Jennifer Jareau. However, you can call me ‘JJ’. Can I sit down?”

(Y/N) waved her permission, and Jennifer- JJ- sat down. No folders. It seems they had wised up and refused gimmicks this time. 

“Tell me about yourself. What’s your day-to-day like?”

That was new. “I’m a full-time student. I do internships through the university occasionally. Most of my time is studying or doing typical college things.”

JJ nodded, a strange sympathy in her eyes. “That must be difficult to maintain with a child at home.”

(Y/N) sputtered, completely taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

Agent Jareau froze, a twinge of insecurity now lacing her tone. “Oh, I’m just assuming. I’m a mother myself, so I know how busy that can be.”

Ah. So that’s what this was. She couldn’t help but laugh. Small at first, but she had soon dissolved into a fit of giggles. JJ paused, unsure of how to proceed. Reid was right, she knew how to get under someone’s skin.

“Awe, is that what you and your team figured? You guys are profiling me as a mother now?” (Y/N) tried to control herself. “Did your precious Dr. Handsome come up with that one?”

Jennifer simpered. She didn’t like feeling foolish.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From the other side of the mirror, the rest of the team watched in rapt fascination.

Hotch was the first to speak. “So what does this tell us?”

Emily bristled. “We were wrong again.”

Spencer felt something inside himself snap. It was one thing to be wrong and be mocked about it (by an unsub, no less). It was another to listen to her taunt him like this. He made a decision then, watching as it all clicked.

“No we weren’t.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) heard his loud, pounding footsteps before she saw him. The door to the interrogation room slammed open, the handle hitting the wall behind it so hard she thought he might crack it. Everything about him was tense which was surprising considering everything about him seemed so… soft.

She hadn’t been lying. He was handsome. There was something graceful hidden in his awkwardness. His physique wasn’t necessarily athletic, but rather almost modelesque. His eyes were kind, even when they were piercing through her. 

“JJ, I can handle things from here.”

Jennifer seemed hesitant, but pulled herself away and excused herself. Spencer took his cue and sat across from (Y/N), letting them sit in silence for a few moments.

(Y/N) watched him. His shoulders were pulled back and his eyes were roaming across her face, analyzing her. She couldn't help but feel exposed to him. The thought made her shiver.

“It’s your sister.”

Her eyes snapped to his, and she felt her chest tighten. “Excuse me?”

Reid barrelled on. “You don’t have a child, you have a sister. A younger one. And I’d be willing to bet she’s the same age as Abigail, right?”

She shifted. Her voice wasn’t so confident anymore. “One point to Dr. Handsome. What does this prove?”

Reid smiled then. “Why get so defensive? I thought you had nothing to hide.”

“I don’t see how any of this is relative to your investigation, Dr. Reid.”

“I want to know what it is that you won’t tell me. And if I have to exploit every little detail of your life to force it out of you,” he leaned in, whispering, “I will.”

“Fine!” (Y/N) barked. “You want to know my dirty little secret? I run a fake ID business on the side to bring in some extra cash in between internships. College is expensive and I have bills to pay. So fucking sue me for finding a side gig, but that isn’t a felony. So I would like to know why the FBI is involved in a low-brow forgery scheme.”

Spencer was silent. It all made sense. Her unwillingness to cooperate, but her apparent innocence in Abigail’s disappearance. He was quiet when he spoke this time. “I see.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “Right. Here’s an idea, the next time you-”

“Reid.”

Both of them turned to find Hotch standing in the doorway, clearly distraught.

“They’ve found Abigail.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Abigail had been left at a gas station about three miles from her house. Not a scratch on her. 

“What does this mean?” Emily pondered. Their unsub wasn’t the type to let someone go, they’d been replacing their victims quickly. Something was wrong.

But who were they to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Local officers determined the unsub had grown tired of Abigail because of her age. It made sense, she was the youngest of the missing persons reports. Definitely younger than the few bodies that had turned up in connection to this case.

A very furious Reid was the one to send (Y/N) home, sulking all the way back to his desk while she waltzed out, completely free to go. 

He wasn’t done with her.


	4. Chapter Four

Two weeks had passed since (Y/N) had shaken the unshakeable Dr. Spencer Reid. 

And, no, he hadn’t been thinking about her.

He was only thinking about her words. Her attitude. Her clear distaste for him. Her stupid fucking nickname for him. Her eyes. Her mouth. 

But not her.

Spencer sighed, dropping his head into his palms. The team had gotten back from a case only hours ago, but everyone agreed to plow through the paperwork so they could enjoy the weekend. But Spence was finding it increasingly difficult to pay attention to the stack of pages before him. 

What right did she have to lash out against his team like that? She had embarrassed them. Even if she WAS innocent, her behavior was entirely uncalled for.

Well…

They HAD falsely detained her.

AND dug into her personal information to try to pin her with something she had nothing to do with.

God. 

There was something about her that excited him, as much as he hated to admit it. She had targeted him. Challenged him.

No one else had ever challenged him like that.

No one saw him as someone worth challenging.

Some deep sadistic part of him craved that challenge, hungry to fight it back. Had he become so depraved that she only had to argue with him to have him stuck on her?

No.

Not HER.

Just everything about her.

Every stupid little thing about her.

“Kid, the rest of us are going to head home. You should too. Get some rest.”

He knew Derek was right. They had spent themselves dry over the past few days, and a long weekend was absolutely in order. He grabbed his satchel and followed Derek out, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at Hotch who was still firmly hunched over his desk upstairs.

What else was new?

The elevator ride was silent and it wasn’t long before they were marching through the lobby towards the parking lot. Most of the cars had cleared out by now, but Spencer recognized the vehicles of his team members scattered around the lot. His stride broke for his car, the only one parked so far away from the doors. Spencer always enjoyed the morning air and tried to indulge when he had time. Unfortunately, his downtime had been reduced to a lowly few minutes across the parking lot, but he would take what he could get. He had almost reached his car when a voice rang out across the lot.

“Get your hands off of me!”

His head snapped so fast he was sure he had given himself whiplash. His eyes followed the voice, terribly and gut-wrenchingly familiar, towards the lot entrance.

(Y/N).

God, of COURSE it was her. 

She was thrashing in the arms of an agent at the security gate. Her eyes were wild, and she looked like she had come in a hurry. Her clothing consisted of a loose t-shirt and jogging shorts, both making her look unkept and comfortable.

Spencer hated that he thought she was strangely pretty.

(Y/N) looked wild and fierce, unleashing her anger on the security guard who now struggled to call for backup. Even with her wrists in vice grip, she pulled and yanked without regard or care.

He caught sight of Morgan jogging to the gate to help, Emily not far behind him. Hearing their approach, (Y/N) tore her gaze from the struggle, her eyes searching the growing audience before landing on him. Even from his distance, he could see her nostrils flare.

“There you are! You sick fuck! Do you think this is funny? Is this your idea of a joke?”

There was something in her hand. A scrap of paper that she clutched so tightly it had wrinkled. His feet were moving before he could process his actions. (Y/N) continued her verbal assault.

“I told you to leave her out of this! She’s a child, you fucking creep! If you so much as touch her, I will-”

Derek was there now, detaining her to the best of his ability. She was a mess of flailing limbs, and even Prentiss’ help barely tempered her.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), I need you to calm down,” Emily soothed. It did nothing.

(Y/N) still raged on, more intense now that Spencer was only a few feet away. “Did they help you? Did your little team help you get back at me? Did you think I wouldn’t know it was you, you stupid son of a-”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Spencer stuttered. Derek had secured her arms behind her back, but she still bit at him like a rabid animal.

“Oh, of course you don’t. The brilliant Dr. Reid, completely clueless. I know it was you who left me this,” she wrenched her hand free to brandish the scrap of paper. “And I’m going to prove it.”

Spencer snatched the scrap from her grip, now recognizing it as a note. He read it over, clearing the length of it within seconds before reading it over again.

And again.

Again.

Again.

His jaw tightened and his breath left him for a moment. He met Morgan’s curious gaze, his eyes sobering.

“Bring her inside. I want her taken into protective custody immediately. No one outside of the team is to have access to her. Go, now.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Lovey.  
Sweet, sweet Lovey.  
Is there no other way to get your attention than to take what’s yours?

Abigail was a mistake.

I won’t be as careless next time.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so kind! I love seeing comments (on both this piece and my other one)! Thank you for being supportive and reading this far!  
> Relax your jaw, lower your shoulders, and get at least 8 hours of sleep! :)  
> Until next time!


	5. Chapter Five

“I’ve already told you! I didn’t see anybody!”

Spencer was growing more and more frustrated as the interview went on. “I just don’t understand how someone could get into your apartment building without you noticing something out of place.”

(Y/N) pulled her eyes from Emily, glaring at him. “I don’t know, you tell me Doctor.”

Prentiss came to his defense. “Like we've said, Dr. Reid had nothing to do with this. We’re only trying to help.”

(Y/N) sighed, leaning back in her chair with a grimace. “It’s not like I keep tabs on every single person who comes in and out the building.” Her eyes cut to Reid again, just as fiery as before. “Unlike others, I don’t feel the need to involve myself in other people’s lives.”

Spencer excused himself, pushing out of the interrogation room and leaving Emily to fend for herself.

\-------------------------------------------

“Reid, I know this is alot to ask, but we are short-staffed. And you were the one who ordered her to be placed under protective custody. She is your responsibility.”

Hotch had caught him halfway through his journey to the break room. The stern set of his brows told Spencer there would be no arguing with him, but he sure tried.

“Sir, with all due respect, you’re asking me to babysit someone who was in our custody under suspicion of _kidnapping_ not too long ago.” I-”

“And we as a team have since proven that she had nothing to do with that. But it seems it had _everything_ to do with her. Now, I agree she should be in protective custody, but we don’t have the manpower to cover both her and her family without expending some extra agents. And since you made that call, I am placing you as her security detail,” Hotch ordered sternly.

Spencer sighed, completely exasperated. It seemed there would be no end to his misery. He nodded curtly and left Hotch’s office. His steps were angry and purposeful, carrying him down the hall and down the stairs. He’d normally take the elevator, but he didn’t fancy the idea of rushing back to her.

_Her._

And now he’d be stuck watching her until his team figured this mess out.

A mess with no leads. No suspects, No end in sight. 

God, kill him.

He rounded the corner, fully prepared to find Emily with her hands around (Y/N)’s neck. He would be lying to say he was disappointed to find they were only talking, however.

And…

Laughing?

Prentiss and (Y/N) had their hands wrapped around their mugs (they definitely didn’t have those when he left) and chatting and giggling and smiling.

What?

Spencer carefully approached them, sure something was terribly wrong. “What’s going on?”

Emily’s laughing face met his. “Spence! Hey, sorry. (Y/N) and I were just having girl talk.”

“Girl talk?” he asked incredulously. He began to state his disdain when Penelope shuffled into the room, shoving past him with her own mug and a plate of snacks.

“I have returned, ladies. And my apologies: the FBI is not known for their stellar catering services. I figured raiding the vending machines would do for now.”

“And you would be right,” (Y/N) declared, happily snatching a bag of M&Ms from the stockpile.

WHAT?

Spencer cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, girl talk? Weren’t we supposed to be piecing together who did this?”

Emily looked guilty, but it was (Y/N)- of course it was- who responded, a heat in her tone. “Lighten up, Dr. Handsome. We were-”

“That’s not my name.”

“Sorry. Dr. Cutie,” she pretended to correct herself. “We were just having a chat. Getting to know each other since we have no idea how long I’ll be stuck here.”

“Only a few more minutes,” he growled. “We’re leaving.”

“We?” she pressed, a question written in her expression.

Spencer tensed, already beyond agitated. “Yes. We. I’m going to be monitoring you until the conclusion of this investigation. So let’s get going.”

Penelope stared at him in bewilderment. “Loosen up, Smarty Pants. There’s no rush!” Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but she barrelled on. “Come on, the safest place for her to be is in a high-security FBI headquarters, and would you look at that? That’s exactly where she is. Now, go grab yourself a mug and settle down.”

“Yeah,” the very bane-of--his-existence agreed. “Settle down, Smarty Pants.”

\--------------------------------------------

The god-forsaken “girl talk” had gone on for about an hour and a half before Spencer had managed to end it. It seemed no amount of sighing or groaning deterred these women. He only managed to escape when Emily had yawned and decided to call it a night.

Now, both (Y/N) and Spencer were settled in an agency-leased SUV, en route to her apartment. Spencer’s go bag would be enough for a few days before he needed more clothes.

He prayed the investigation would be done before then.

They arrived rather quickly, and (Y/N) escorted them through the lobby of her apartment building, and towards the elevator. Spencer took note of the doorman at the front desk.

Hm.

“You didn’t mention a front desk or doorman.”

She faced him, glancing quickly at the man perched behind the desk. “Is that something worth mentioning?”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Obviously, or else I wouldn’t bring it up. That means that whoever dropped the note off managed to get past him. So it’s either someone you know and have had over to your apartment before, or it’s someone the doorman recognized. Like a maintenance man.”

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open. They stepped on, (Y/N) only speaking when the doors had closed. 

“I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry,” she whispered. And she _did_ sound apologetic. 

A twinge of guilt struck Spencer in the chest.. He sighed. “It’s fine. I just want to see that this is solved quickly.”

“Eager to get rid of me, Cutie?”

Ah. There she was. Back to her usual.

He was saved from responding by the doors opening. She led them down a hallway to a door marked ‘22’. She swung it open, and Spencer startled.

“You don’t keep your doors locked?”

(Y/N) glanced at him quickly. “No. It's a nice area.”

He felt a rush of irritation. “‘Nice area’ doesn’t mean anything when it comes to home invasions. You know, statistically speaking, ‘nice areas’ are more likely-”

“Fine. I get it,” she interjected. She spun on her heel, stalking into what appeared to be the kitchen. She returned with a glass of water, which she handed over to Spencer.

“The guest room is down the hall, to the left. My room is right across the hall. If you need anything, just knock.” Her posture was awkward, something Spencer had not seen from her yet.

She seemed…

Out of place.

Still, she continued. “Towels are under the sink in the bathroom. You’re more than welcome to use anything in there, although you probably keep your own-”

“(Y/N),” he interjected. “I got it.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Right. I’ll leave you to it then.”

And with that, she retreated down the hall.

Spencer was so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing and so incredibly sweet!  
> Remember to wear a mask and take care of yourself.  
> All my love xx


	6. Chapter Six

(Y/N) awoke with a groan, her limbs stretching and joints popping. Sunlight was filtering through her curtains, painting the room in a soft gold. She took her time sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

Somewhere down the hall, she could hear the sounds of someone opening and shutting cabinets. She pulled herself out of bed and padded down the hall. She found none other than Dr. Spencer Reid digging through her kitchen cabinets. She coughed.

Spencer spun to face her. She was clad in only pajamas. He blushed and forced himself to keep his eyes on her face. She raised her eyebrows.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

He sighed and continued his rummaging. “A mug. I made coffee.” He glanced at her quickly, his tone suddenly becoming bashful. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah! That’s fine,” she assured. “They’re in the cabinet under the coffee maker. More convenient to keep it all together.” 

Spencer hated to admit it, but it was very clever. He swung the door open and found rows of mugs neatly arranged in perfect lines. He grabbed one with some TV show logo on it, and straightened out.

“Did you want breakfast? I can whip something up. I’m pretty hungry myself,” (Y/N) offered, already opening the fridge.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, but I don’t often eat breakfast,” Spencer rejected. This felt too domestic, and he was uncomfortable.

(Y/N) pulled herself out of the fridge, a carton of eggs in her hands and bewilderment written across her face. “That’s stupid,” she said simply. 

Ah. She was back to being ‘bane-of-his-existence’ (Y/N).

Spencer felt himself bristle at her tone. “It’s is not stupid. I’m just usually too busy to grab something.”

“You have time now,” she pointed out. And, damn. She had a point.

But Spencer didn’t want to admit as much. “I’m fine,” he grumbled.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and moved to the stove. “How do you like your eggs?”

“I said-”

“I heard you Cutie,” she cut him off. “Now, how do you like your eggs?”

Spencer huffed. She was impossible. “Scrambled,” he mumbled bitterly.

(Y/N) smiled. “Scrambled it is.”

They sat in silence for a bit while she worked her way through cooking breakfast. She gestured for Spencer to take a seat at her dining table while she popped some bread in the toaster. 

“This isn’t necessary,” Spencer cut in when he saw her begin to cut up some strawberries. She didn’t respond, only waved a hand in his direction in dismissal.

When she was finished, she plated the food and joined him at the table. Spencer hated to give her any credit, but it _did_ smell delicious. He dug in, and determined it tasted just as good as it looked.

They ate quickly, and (Y/N) noted Spencer was dressed for work. “You going in to the office, Mr. FBI Guy?”

He rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Well unless you have a class or something, then yes. And you will be coming with me.”

(Y/N) spluttered. “What? Why?”

“I’m your security detail,” Spencer replied as if it was obvious. “I monitor you and accompany you to classes or outings, but if time permits, I still have a job. But I can’t leave you. So you have to come with me.”

“What, you can’t stand the thought of being away from me, Handsome?” she teased.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s really eating me up inside.”

(Y/N) stopped with her mug halfway to her mouth, a smile blooming. “Dr. Cutie, did you just make a joke?”

Spencer found himself laughing in spite of himself, just at the absolute ridiculous look on her face. 

“You’re insufferable.”

\--------------------------------------------

He was right. 

Ever since they had arrived at Quantico, (Y/N) had been talking nonstop. It seemed everyone they passed or came in contact with was more than willing to talk about anything and everything. She was like a magnet, and no one was immune to her charm.

It was infuriating.

When they had finally made it to the bullpen, she immediately swept Emily up in conversation. Spencer sat dejectedly at his desk as (Y/N) prattled on about a new restaurant that had just opened up in town.

‘How boring,’ Spencer thought. Though, he had to admit that the way her voice curved around words when she was talking was like a song.

God.

Penelope had passed by and caught sight of (Y/N) and immediately inserted herself into the conversation. All three women were chatting excitedly now, and Spencer was finding it difficult to concentrate. Even JJ, who rarely got sidetracked, was adding her own commentary to the discussion. 

“You alright, kid?” Derek questioned, walking by Spencer’s desk.

“Just peachy,” he ground out, rereading the same paragraph for the third time now. (Y/N) laughed at something Penelope said, and his focus broke once again. Morgan followed the sound, raising his eyebrows.

“Well hello, (Y/N). Fancy seeing you here,” he said lightly. She laughed, and the sound was so warm that it grated on Reid’s nerves. 

“Hello again, Agent Morgan. How are you?”

The pleasantries went back and forth and before he knew it, Spencer was watching Derek get wrapped up in speaking with her.

‘You’ve got to be fucking joking,’ he thought.

He pushed through case files, distracting himself so he didn’t have to listen to their conversation (or at least pretend he wasn’t). 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The day dragged on, and eventually it was time to head out. (Y/N) had been doodling on some printer paper for the last hour, but Spencer couldn’t see what she was writing from his desk. He sighed and stood, collecting his bag. 

“Let’s go home,” he said. (Y/N) looked up from where she sat at Emily’s desk and laughed.

“‘Home’, huh? Getting real cozy, are we Dr. Cute?”

Blushing at his slip-up, Spencer strode towards the doors, content to leave her behind. He heard her footsteps behind him and he guided them to the elevators. Once they were on, (Y/N) spoke.

“How does Chinese food sound?”

Spencer snorted. “What is it with you and feeding me?”

“What is it with you and not letting me feed you?”

They both laughed, and Spencer despised how easy it felt. “Fine, but you can’t make fun of me for not using chopsticks.”

(Y/N) huffed out a laugh.

“No promises.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

They ate dinner in front of the tv, something Spencer _never_ did. But he couldn’t deny how nice it was to cozy up on the couch watching a program (Y/N) insisted he would enjoy.

“It’s a true crime show! It’s about a bunch of FBI agents. It’s perfect for you!”

Spencer had rolled his eyes, but found himself enjoying it nonetheless. He occasionally had to ask a question to catch himself up, but she was always more than happy to answer. If Spencer thought her voice sounded nice when she was talking about mundane thighs, it was absolutely intoxicating when she was raving about things she enjoyed.

He found himself craving it.

When they had finished their takeout, (Y/N) had tossed him a fortune cookie. “Read it,” she demanded.

He cracked it open and did just that, earning him a huff. “Out loud,” she clarified.

Spencer sighed.”’Open yourself up. A new adventure awaits.”

(Y/N) hummed. “Fitting.”

He popped the cookie in his mouth, and looked at hers. “What does yours say?”

She unrolled the little scrap of paper and smiled. 

“‘Love can be found where you least expect it’.”

Spencer felt his chest seize, but couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it.

Who cares? It’s a stupid fortune cookie.

“You alright there?”

Her voice broke him from his reverie and he forced himself to smile. “Yeah, just a little tired. I’m gonna head to bed.”

He didn’t give her time to respond before he shuffled off the couch and down the hall. He pressed himself into the wall inside the guest room and took a deep breath. He said a silent prayer that the team was making progress on her case, and quickly.

He dressed in pajamas consisting of sweatpants and a Caltech sweatshirt that was thin and faded from washing.He had just begun to settle into bed when he heard something.

It was quiet. Spencer decided it was coming from the living room. He moved across the room and pressed his ear against the door. Was this eavesdropping?

Probably.

It was a piano from what Spencer could hear. He figured (Y/N) was tinkling around on the piano in the living room.

‘Music majors,’ he scoffed to himself. He waited a moment more despite telling himself it was incredibly inconvenient to play at this hour when people were trying to sleep.

And if he fell asleep easier to the sound of her playing that night…

Well no one else would ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the lovely people who have been so encouraging about this story. Truthfully, I was in a writer's block, and JUST found where I wanted this to go last chapter, so it was really encouraging to read all of your kind comments.  
> Remember: Demand kindness from those around you. You deserve it xx


	7. Chapter Seven

This was miserable.

Spencer had shaken her awake at exactly 5:30 this morning to let her know they needed to be at the office by 6:00. He had left her bedroom without a word after that.

So after dragging herself out of bed and skipping breakfast in favor of cleaning up a bit. Though that just meant she had fixed her hair a bit and slid into some jeans.

So that’s how (Y/N) had wound up at Spencer Reid’s desk, half asleep and hungry at 6:45am. The team was preoccupied with a meeting, one she was obviously not allowed to sit in on, though she would have liked to have seen Spencer in action.

The last few days had been strange. They had good moments- really good moments, where they could play around and joke without it being weird. But it never lasted long. They’d be joking and suddenly Spencer would get this strange look and turn all crabby and serious. It was a rollercoaster and it had exhausted (Y/N).

She was broken out of her reverie by the sound of a door swinging open. Her eyes found the meeting room, but found the team still at it. She surveyed the room to find the source of the noise and was met with the sight of another agent (whose name she couldn’t remember) escorting an older couple through the bullpen. Upon further observation, (Y/N) noticed a small child clutching the hem of the woman’s shirt.

Her breath caught.

(Y/N) had only seen a school photo, but there was no mistaking it.

Abigail.

The unnamed agent trailed close, stopping for a moment to address (Y/N). “Hey,” he began with a smile that she couldn’t help but return. “This is the Hill family. I’m going to do some interviews with the parents, do you mind if Abigail sits with you for a bit?”

God.

“Uh, no. That’s fine. Totally fine,” she stammered, suddenly nervous. Agent What’s-His-Face smiled gratefully and directed Abigail to the seat across from her. And without any further instruction on what she was supposed to do or say, they left.

Great.

(Y/N) felt sick with nerves. What was she supposed to say? What were you supposed to say to a child who had been taken and put through who knows what? 

Abigail was looking around curiously, seemingly unaware of the panic searing (Y/N)’s nerves. She wasn’t quite for long, turning to (Y/N) with a shrug.

“You wanna play tic-tac-toe?”

Her voice was so… _tiny._

“S-Sure,” she responded. She pulled a sheet of paper out of Spencer’s desk printer and dug in his drawers until she found a pen.

“You be X’s, I’ll be O’s,” Abigail declared happily.

And so they played. (Y/N) was sore to admit that Abigail beat her most of the time, but blamed it on her nerves.

“My name is Abigail,” the little girl announced, doodling on the back of (Y/N)’s defeat. 

It startled her. This felt too real, too personal. The guilt was making her nauseous. How was she supposed to talk to a _child_ who had supposedly been a way of getting to _her?_

“I’m (Y/N).”

There. That was a start.

“I know.”

Well. That was not part of the script.

(Y/N) paused, studying the blonde curls and soft eyes. “You know?”

Abigail looked at her as if it was a stupid question. Maybe it was.

“You’re Ella’s sister.”

(Y/N) froze. “You-” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat before continuing. “You know Ella?”

A nod. “She’s in my class. I’ve seen you pick her up from school. She always talks about you.”

No.

No, no, no. This was all wrong. Too specific to be coincidence. She thought back to the note.

‘Abigail was a mistake.’

That was it. That’s where he slipped up. That was the connection. 

(Y/N) felt sick. She had insisted she didn’t know anything about this case and what it had to do with her.

And she had been wrong.

“Abigail,” she tried gently. “While you were-” she trailed off. “While you were…gone… Did you ever hear my name? Did anyone with you ever say it?”

“Yeah, the big man did. He talked about you a lot.”

(Y/N)’s blood turned to ice. She felt like a masochist, but she needed to hear it was her fault. She needed to know how she was involved.

“The big man? Can you tell me-”

“What the hell are you doing?”

She didn’t know when Spencer had gotten out of his meeting, or how long he had been standing there. He looked furious and (Y/N) suddenly felt very defensive.

“I was just asking some questions. She said-”

“You do realize you don’t have the authority to do that, right?”

Spencer’s eyes were lit with a temper he had on a short leash. She was always putting herself where she didn’t belong and it infuriated him.

(Y/N) looked wounded, and it took everything in him not to retreat. 

“But she said-”

“I don’t care what she said, you had no right to interview her,” Spencer snapped firmly.

(Y/N) stood, standing toe to toe with him now. Her anger matched his and her tone turned hostile. “Excuse me, _Doctor,_ but I wasn’t interviewing her. She said she knew my sister. I was just asking some questions!”

Spencer paused. That was something that hadn’t come up in their previous interviews. He hated to give her behavior any reward, but she had connected dots that the team hadn’t even realized existed. 

Still…

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered after a long pause.

It felt like the wrong thing to say.

(Y/N) only stared at him, at a loss for words. 

“Can we go on a walk, (Y/N)?”

Abigail was still doodling, but it seemed she had grown bored of that. (Y/N) responded without tearing her eyes away from Spencer.

“Yeah, of course.” She grabbed her jacket from the back of the desk chair and leveled Spencer with a heated look. “Or do I need permission for that, too?”

He was quiet.

Both girls sauntered past him, Abigail reaching up to take (Y/N)’s hand.

And Spencer had an idea.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

“Let me get this straight,” Derek began. “Our unsub knows (Y/N) somehow, but not enough to know what her sister looks like? What does that even mean, Reid?”

“Think about it!” Spencer was frantic, piecing together as much as he could with so little information. “Abigail remembered her from brief interactions through the little sister, Ella. So we have a connection there. We’ve already canvassed the school and their employees to rule them out. That means, at some point, (Y/N) and Abigail met outside of school, and _that_ is where they ran into the unsub.”

Emily interjected then. “But (Y/N) said she doesn’t know Abigail, and up until today she didn’t know they had ever crossed paths at all. Where would they have met that (Y/N) wouldn’t remember?”

“That is where my fancy techy footwork comes in handy,” Penelope announced. “I ran through (Y/N)’s files and found Ella’s and managed to do some digging on her. Ella and Abigail are in the same class and about three months ago, Ella invited Abi to her birthday party.”

Morgan considered. “A birthday party?”

“Think about it!” Spencer exclaimed, reveling in that feeling that came with making a breakthrough. “(Y/N) would have been too caught up organizing to have taken notice of every single child who attended, let alone someone as quiet as Abigail.”

Spencer felt exhilarated. After he had scolded a revelation out of (Y/N), the pieces just seemed to fall into place.

Hotch cut in. “So you think our unsub saw (Y/N) at this party and mistook Abigail for her sister?”

“Where was this party held?” Rossi asked, rising from his chair. It was go time.

“The Tea Room. It’s a little restaurant downtown.”

Hotch closed his file.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this is coming a tad bit late, I was crazy sick and NOT in the mood to type haha.  
> Anyway, you guys are lovely. And if no one has told you this today: You are loved and you are worthy.  
> All my love xx
> 
> ALSO: Would there be any interest in a college AU? Later down the line?


	8. Chapter Eight

The team canvassed the entire restaurant, interviewing every employee who could've come in contact with (Y/N) at some point during the party, only sparing kitchen staff who the manager insisted never left the kitchen.

Nothing.

They spent hours combing through alibis, desperate for a crumb of information that could lead them to their unsub. Emily had even gone as far as to trail one of the more suspicious waitresses back to her house and perform surveillance for a few hours.

Nothing.

It was like chasing a ghost, and they seemed to be 10 steps ahead at all times.

Spencer had grown more and more frustrated as the day went on, so by the time the team called it quits and decided to retreat back to Quantico, he was downright pissed.

“Hey man,” Derek spoke gently from the driver’s seat, looking at Spencer through the rearview mirror. “Don’t worry about it. We’re gonna get him.”

“We don’t even know what we’re looking for!” Spencer erupted, startling JJ in the passenger chair.

“Spence, relax. We just need to sit down, and go through everything again,” she soothed, although uselessly.

Spencer sulked in the backseat, arms crossed and lips pouted.

He was no closer to leaving this girl behind him.

\---------------------------------------

The team filed back into the bullpen, all with their shoulders drawn in defeat. Spencer stormed rather angrily to his desk to find (Y/N) with Abigail on her lap now hunched over a (pathetic excuse of a) drawing, both of them giggling as they scribbled. The older girl lifted her head as he approached, immediately scowling.

“Hello,” he sighed, fearing he would end up apologizing if he stood here too long.

(Y/N) only blinked, her eyes still sharp and slitted. Abigail, at least, had the decency to chirp “Hello Dr. Reid” before returning her attention to what looked to be a drawing of a butterfly.

Spencer sighed. “(Y/N), about my behavior earlier…” he trailed off. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t often wrong about things, so he never felt the need to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he decided, displaying as much sincerity on his face as he could.

Her eyes softened, and she nodded. Breathing a sigh of relief, Spencer grabbed the nearest chair and drew himself close to the pair, peering over (Y/N)’s shoulder.

“Wow!” he exclaimed in what he hoped sounded cheery, and not repulsed. The drawing was a disaster, but he didn’t think adding “childhood dream crusher” to his list of fuck-ups today would’ve gone over well. “Did you draw that?”

Abigail nodded happily, beaming with pride. (Y/N) laughed. “Got a little Michelangelo on our hands, don’t we?”

And god, he hated how pretty she sounded in that moment.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive to (Y/N)’s apartment was silent except for the radio, which (Y/N) had changed to the classical music station (a delightful surprise to Spencer, who figured hooligans like her listened to heavy metal and hip hop).

They arrived rather quickly, and (Y/N) led him through the lobby like she had for the past few nights.

Well…

Almost through.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)!” called the doorman from his desk. “Someone left this on the counter! It has your name on it!”

Spencer’s reaction was immediate. He rushed to the desk, snatching the note from the clerk’s hands without so much as a ‘thank you’. He tore open the envelope and began to read it.

“‘If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph-’”

“The only proof he needed for the existence of God was music’,” (Y/N) finished, rolling her eyes and turning back towards the elevators carelessly.

Spencer was reeling. “Does that mean something to you?”

She scoffed. “Every musician or person who has touched an instrument _ever_ has heard that at least once. It’s like the go-to musician’s quote. I can name four different people who have it tattooed.”

Spencer was hot on her heels, tearing into the elevator at a brutal pace. The doors closed, and they began to rise. “I think it’s from our unsub.”

“And?” (Y/N) asked boredly.

He gaped at her incredulously. “And? That means he’s made another attempt at contacting you! _And_ he knows you well enough to know you’re a musician!”

“Oh, please!” she laughed, stepping off of the elevator and waltzing down the hall to her door. “Any random stranger off the street could probably tell you I was a musician. That’s not some sort of intimate detail that I keep locked away! It’s my major for fuck’s sake! You’ve basically narrowed down your suspect pool to everyone at the university.”

Fuck.

She was right.

Spencer sulked. Just when he thought they were a step closer to catching this guy and wrapping this whole case up (and getting him far away from her and how she made him feel), they slid back two steps.

He dropped his satchel by the door with a huff, stalking down the hall to what had become his bedroom.

 _His_ bedroom.

At _her_ house.

He hated that, too.

“I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll leave at 5:45 again,” he called over his shoulder as a farewell.

“No we won’t.”

He froze. It seems she was back to being the bane-of-his-existence again. And honestly, he preferred it. It was easier this way.

Spinning on his heel, he found her pulling off her shoes and heading to the piano (honestly, again?). “I’m sorry? We have to be at the office by 6:00.”

“On days where I don’t have classes, Dr. Cutie. I have classes tomorrow. So we will be leaving here by 8:00,” she chimed. “After a nice breakfast, of course.”

He scowled, his nostrils flaring. He had never felt like more of a babysitter. “What classes will _we_ be attending then?”

“I have a music composition class first, then piano, and a two-hour rehearsal after that.”

“A rehearsal?” Spencer cried, feeling his work day slip away from him. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to slip into the office for even an _hour._

“Oh, would you stop? I only have classes one day a week! Tomorrow is my busy day and then I just have chemistry online! It’s not like I’m the one making you go!”

He rubbed at his, completely and utterly frustrated with the whole situation. (Y/N) was right, of course, she hadn’t been the one to decide he had to flag her every move.

That thought didn’t help to ease his irritation. 

He took a steadying breath, feeling his irritation dissipate. “You’re right.”

She smiled in that way that told him she was being coy. “God it feels good to hear you say that.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “Goodnight, hooligan. I’ll be taking this,” he raised the note, “to the office at some point to turn in as evidence.”

(Y/N) raised her hands in a surrendering pose. “Fair enough,” she conceded, still smiling that shit-eating grin.

Spencer nodded as a goodnight, and turned to the- his- bedroom. “Oh, one more thing,” he spoke, catching himself in the doorway. “If you’re going to play piano into the wee hours of the night, could you at least take requests?”

She laughed, loud and chirping and it filled his chest to hear it.

Even more so knowing he created it.

(Y/N) smiled lightly, squinting at him in question. “Depends on what you’re asking for.”

He brought a hand to his chin in mock-thought before snapping his fingers. “How about Pachelbel?”

Another smile, softer this time. “You got it, Cutie.”

\----------------------------------

Spencer awoke early the next morning out of habit, rolling over to check the time on his phone. 

‘5:02’ it read, temporarily blinding him in the early morning darkness.

Sighing, he pulled himself out of bed. Figuring he’d get a headstart to the day, he padded to the bathroom for a shower. 

After ten minutes and a slew of floral scented shampoo (which he would never admit to liking the smell of), Spencer was pulling himself out and wrapping a towel around his waist. Figuring he was still the only one awake, he didn’t think twice about opening the bathroom door while he was half-naked.

Which is how he greeted a very sleepy (Y/N).

Her eyes were droopy with sleep, and she was caught halfway through a yawn when the door opened. Her eyes widened comically as she took in his state, gaze wandering down his bare torso. Her cheeks were flushed, and Spencer suspected his weren’t much different.

“Oh!” she stuttered, casting her eyes down once she had caught herself. “S-Sorry.”

Spencer mumbled something that sounded like “it’s okay”, and practically ran back to the guest room. Laying his back against the door, he shut his eyes and groaned to himself.

That was the last thing he needed right now. The flush had spread from his cheeks down to his chest. Embarrassment was creeping into every corner of his brain. 

Very few people had seen Spencer’s naked torso, let alone _women._ Let alone women he found simultaneously infuriating and fascinating.

‘Stop that,’ he scolded, rushing to get dressed to distract himself from his racing thoughts. He pulled on the last button-up he had in his go-bag, tucking it into his khakis and pulling on his shoes. He busied himself pointlessly with fixing his hair, looking for a reason to avoid facing (Y/N) again.

Realizing there wasn’t much else to do, Spencer sighed and pulled open the door to his bedroom. The scent of cooking enveloped him and he followed it to the kitchen where (Y/N) was stationed at the stove, intently focused on a batch of french toast. 

“Good morning,” he spoke through a lump in his throat. She spun around quickly, cheeks blossoming into a blush almost immediately.

“Hi,” she stuttered meekly, pulling her attention away from him and returning to the task at hand. Spencer sighed.

He figured joking around was the best way to lighten the mood. “Was it my scrawny naked body that left you this speechless?”

She laughed _that_ laugh, the one that filled his chest and made him whole. Smiling at him, she responded in a chirp. “Stop it, you’re not scrawny.”

It was his turn to laugh now. “You must not have gotten a good look, then.”

“Believe me, I did.”

And now his cheeks were burning even more than they had when she’d seen him walking out of the bathroom. (Y/N) saw and smirked at him.

“Oh Dr. Cutie, was it my flirting that left you this speechless?”

His breath caught.

Flirting?

Before he had time to dwell on it, (Y/N) was checking the time and handing him a plate. “Eat up, we should head out soon.”

\------------------------------------

It seemed every time Spencer turned around, (Y/N) was there to shake up his thoughts.

First, the food had been amazing and Spencer couldn’t help but let his imagination wander to what else she could make.

Second, he could hear (Y/N) humming to herself in her room while she changed, and her voice was soft and perfect and wonderful, and god it hurt his head.

Third, she had emerged from her bedroom dressed in an outfit that made her look effortlessly classy and pretty, and his headache only worsened.

He had a migraine by the time they had shuffled into her car. Even more so when her humming had carried over into whistling along to the radio. By the time they had arrived at the campus, Spencer’s head was swimming.

He trailed her like a lost puppy as she wove through clusters of students, always stopping for a moment to greet anyone who said hi.

It seemed everyone fell victim to her charm no matter where she went.

A brisk walk and a billion polite conversations later, (Y/N) was navigating them inside a small lecture hall. 

“So this is music composition?” Spencer mumbled, surveying the books and posters strewn throughout the room.

“That it is,” she replied while she ushered him to a set of seats near the middle. “I brought a book along in case you got bored.”

That made him stop, halfway in his seat. “You, uh-” he cleared his throat, “You did?”

She looked up at him from where she was fishing though her backpack, producing a thick leather-bound novel from its depths. “Yeah, of course. I can’t expect you to sit through all my classes without getting bored. Don’t get too excited though. It’s just a collection of old German folklore.”

Spencer felt a sting in his chest.

Because of course she had been thoughtful enough to bring him a book. And of course it was something he thought sounded interesting. 

He took the book with eager hands and a shy smile, going to work on the pages at once. He had soared through almost the entire first chapter before he felt the sensation of being watched. (Y/N) was staring at him in wonder when he looked up from the words.

“You can’t possibly be reading that fast.”

A warmth spread through his cheeks for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Um, yes. I am.”

She only stared at him, openly gaping before shaking her head with a smile. About that time, a rail-thin gentlemen with wiry gray hair stumbled into the classroom, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Good morning, muses. Welcome. Today we are going to go over tempo and rhythm.”

And thus the class began. Spencer worked through his book relatively quickly and soon found himself listening to the old man draw on about emotion in song and expression in musical elements and other topics that sounded far too pretentious for his liking. (Y/N) soaked every bit of it in, studiously jotting down notes in a quiet sort of calm Spencer had never seen her in.

Strangely, he found himself missing her obnoxious loud-mouth and teasing.

\------------------------------------------------

The lecture was wrapped up within an hour, and before he knew it, Spencer was being ushered outside again. (Y/N) pushed him through the courtyards and stairways and hallways until they wound up in what he could only describe as a studio. Instruments of all kinds littered the walls and floor, resembling some sort of musical pipe dream. (Y/N) pulled him through the center of all of it, passing by the few students in class with cheerful “hellos” and the occasional “how are you?”

She reached a piano near the center and ran her fingers over the keys delicately. A sharp ‘pling’ sung through the air and she settled onto the bench. Spencer stood awkwardly, feeling so out of place in her safe haven.

Noticing his discomfort, (Y/N) patted the space next to her and he sidled onto the bench. His mind immediately zeroed in on how their thighs were touching and he forced the thought away just as quickly as it had come.

She smiled. “Do you know how to play?”

Spencer kept his eyes on the keys, refusing to meet her gaze. “Not really. I know basic scales.”

(Y/N) made a noise that sounded like approval. “Oh? Dr. Genius knows how to play scales?”

He laughed. “Are we switching to ‘Genius’, then?” He laid a heavy finger on one of the keys, it’s song ringing out. “And it’s basic math when you break it down. Anyone could play scales if they tried.”

“You’re being humble,” she hummed, laying her hands over the keys and playing what Spencer suspected was Beethoven. She went on, occasionally forcing him to play a note or two and share a laugh before she took over again, filling the small space.

He thanked whatever god was listening that the instructor waltzed in before he could become too lost in her. A petite woman strode in with an air of superiority and he could physically feel (Y/N) seize up next to him.

“Hello muses, how are you today?”

Even her voice seemed strict and structured, each syllable piercing the air. A chorus of “good” went up from the students, including (Y/N), though her voice was meek in comparison. 

“Very good,” she clipped. She walked through the room, surveying each face and lingering on (Y/N)’s for a moment before moving on. “Now, you were all asked at the beginning of the semester to work on an original piece. I’d like to take the day to individually go over those,” she paused, eyes slitting in a calculating manner. “Consider this a progress report.”

Spencer shivered at that. Something about this woman struck fear straight through his core, and he now understood the rigidness in (Y/N)’s spine. She commanded the entire room, but not in the way (Y/N) did. Where (Y/N) was soft smiles and charm that flooded everything around her, this professor was hard lines and ice. 

One by one, students took the attention of the room to demonstrate their pieces under the unflinchingly terrifying criticism of Professor Hard Ass as Spencer had nicknamed her in his head. When almost everyone had performed (and been verbally torn to shreds), her eyes sought out (Y/N) expectantly.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), I believe you’re next. I assume you’ll be playing the piece we discussed last week?”

(Y/N) swallowed as Spencer stood from the piano bench to allow her professor a clear view of her student. “Yes ma’am.”

“Then get to it.”

With a shaky breath, (Y/N) jumped into playing, the melody soft and easy. Spencer recognized it quickly as the song he had heard her play that one night that felt so long ago, and he found himself just as enamoured with it now as he was then.

On and on she played, the notes following a familiar pattern that carried itself through the whole song. Her eyes had become still and focused and Spencer’s chest hurt when he looked at her so lost in her craft.

She was beautiful.

And for the first time, he didn’t see her as “beautiful, except…”

She wasn’t beautiful, except for her outrageous temper.

She wasn’t beautiful, except for her smart-ass mouth.

She wasn’t beautiful, except for her charm that got under his skin.

She was just beautiful.

‘Beautiful,’ he thought with a wince, the sheer volume of the realization hitting him like a wave.

Beautiful.

_Beautiful._

And all at once, her playing had stopped and she waited with baited breath for any criticism or praise she would receive. Professor Hard Ass held a calculating stare, only nodding to herself before turning to the rest of the room.

“Class dismissed.”

Students eagerly jumped from their posts, grabbing backpacks and instrument cases alike before stampeding for the door where they poured into the hall. (Y/N) stayed glued to the bench, her shoulders stiff.

“Can I see your sheet music?”

At the sound of her professor’s voice, (Y/N) seemed to snap out of whatever held her and reached for her bag to produce a small book.

She handed it over anxiously and held her breath while the instructor flipped through it with a hard glare. Minutes stretched on for what felt like hours, punctuated by the looming silence. 

Then finally, “It’s good.”

All the tension melted from the room and (Y/N) stuttered. “Good?”

The professor nodded approvingly, continuing to flip through the music. “Really good.”

(Y/N) caught Spencer’s eyes with a smile so wide that it looked like it hurt. He couldn’t help himself. He smiled back, full and big and raw and vulnerable. He smiled with everything he felt and reveled in how good it felt to show her _him._

“There’s no name on this. Does it have a title?”

At that, (Y/N) visibly became shy, smile softening and her eyes falling. “Reid.”

Spencer startled at the mention of his name, worrying something was wrong when he realized…

She wasn’t calling his name.

She had named her piece after him.

“Reid?” Hard Ass questioned, a small smile beginning at the corners of her mouth. “Interesting.” Closing the book with one last nod, she handed it over. “Keep it up, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

And with that, (Y/N) swept up her belongings and ushered him from the room, all the while his head swam in a daze.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Spencer felt the courage to ask. “Reid?”

Glancing at him, (Y/N) shyly smiled through her answer. “Yes.”

He swallowed. “As in… Spencer Reid?”

A laugh tore itself from her chest, wide and full. “It certainly seems that way, huh?”

Spencer felt light-headed. It was almost suffocating to be this close to her now that he felt so lost in her.

“Why?”

“Because you gave me the idea for it.”

And what?

At his confusion, (Y/N) rolled her eyes affectionately. “You tap your fingers when you’re stressed.”

Spencer’s bewilderment only deepened. “Huh?”

(Y/N) strolled across campus without a care in the world while he felt exposed to every set of eyes they passed. She spoke, oblivious to the war raging between his ears. 

“You do this tapping thing when you’re mad or thinking. You did it alot the first few days of our…” she trailed off, looking for the right word. “Arrangement. And it got stuck in my head until I started doing it. So I just stuck it on a piano, and I kinda liked the sound of it. The rest of it came easy.”

She was too much for him. She was surrounding him, filling his lungs, and Spencer genuinely thought he might burst if she didn’t stop talking.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he choked out, “Thank you.”

A wink.

“Anytime, Cutie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! This took every last shred of my brain, and I hope you enjoy it!   
> I cannot tell you guys how much I appreciate you for reading this. I put this out there in the world because it kept bouncing in my brain, and I didn't think anyone would see it, but I'm so glad to have found a little tribe in all of you. BFF's for life and all that jazz.  
> Remember: You deserve love that has no boundaries and exceeds all precedent. Demand the best for yourself in every aspect of your life and be unwavering in your wants and expectations.  
> All my love xx  
> P.S. If you ever need a private chat, I have a tumblr that you're welcome to reach out to me on! You can also see the inspo posts I use for writing this on there if you'd like! (@honeyhxrts)


	9. Chapter Nine

Spencer didn’t know what to expect from (Y/N)’s rehearsal, but it certainly hadn’t been the full orchestra that had greeted them upon entering the practice space. 

Rows upon rows of musicians and their instruments filled the room, and Spencer was clouded by the memory of seeing the New York Symphony with his mother when he was a child. The tell-tale sounds of students tuning and testing flooded his ears and his senses felt overwhelmed with music.

(Y/N) took it all in stride, making for the grand piano near the center. Spencer lingered near the door, unsure of where to go in the sea of people. He opted for a lonely chair on the opposite wall, sitting and playing with his hands nervously.

His head had been swimming since (Y/N) had told him about her song. He didn’t know why the idea of her taking something he found to be a bad habit and turning it into something so astounding left him feeling breathless, but it did. He had barely spoken for the rest of the walk over, not that she seemed to mind, whistling to herself the rest of the way.

As he sat in the rehearsal room, he found himself doing the very tapping that had put him in this mess in the first place.

Mess.

What a beautiful mess.

Spencer was shaken from his thoughts by the distinct sound of the conductor tapping his baton against a music stand to gather the attention of his players. And just like that, a swell of music filled the air.

\------------------------------------------------------

Rehearsal had gone by in a flash, and before Spencer knew it, (Y/N) was bounding over to him happily.

“What’d you think?” she questioned, reaching for her bag next to him and accidentally brushing against his arm.

He shivered. “It was, uh, it was good. You sounded great.”

She smiled, and he could see the faintest blush coating her cheeks. She muttered her thanks and they headed for the door.

They had almost made it before a voice stopped them.

“(Y/N)! Wait up!”

Spencer turned his head with hers to see a rather scrawny looking boy about her age approaching. Spencer could tell from his awkward gait and flush that (Y/N) made him nervous.

And he didn’t like it.

“Oh! Rodney! Hey, how are you?” she asked with a bright smile, the smallest trace of discomfort lining it.

The boy- _Rodney_ \- blushed harder. “I’m good! Really good! Never better, actually. I just wanted to, uh, say good work today. You played great.”

(Y/N) was subtly moving Spencer towards the door again, talking as she walked. “Thank you, that’s really kind of you.”

“How have you been?” he stuttered, effectively pulling her back into conversation, and Spencer winced at the awkwardness of the situation. “I just haven’t seen you around since the party.”

(Y/N) smiled that polite and friendly smile that drew everyone in to her, and for a moment, Spencer felt his annoyance dissipate.

“Yeah, I’ve just been busy. Spence keeps me busy.”

At that, he whipped his head around to face her. He knew she meant nothing by it, but the implication was there. So was the subtle look in her eyes that screamed “play along”.

“Oh,” Rodney spoke, sadness lacing his tone. “Well no worries. I’ll see you around soon?”

“Yeah, of course!”

And just like that, he was gone. Spencer felt the tension ease and even the heat in his chest had started to lessen. 

“So,” he spoke. “Rodney…”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes with a small smile. “Yep.”

“He has a crush on you.”

She laughed. “Oh yeah? What’s it to you?”

Fuck. He hadn’t thought far enough to give her an answer.

“It’s my job to read people and their behaviors,” he decided. 

She hummed, still smiling at him. Spencer’s migraine returned at the sight of it.

Deciding to push the topic away, he switched gears. “I didn’t see him playing anything.”

(Y/N) nodded, swinging her keys around her finger. “He’s not in the music program. I’m pretty sure he’s a computer science major. I’m not sure.”

Well. That was odd.

“So he just comes to rehearsals to ogle at you?” And he hated the twinge of jealousy in his voice.

Another laugh. “I guess he does.”

Spencer felt himself start to pout, even more set on his disdain for the guy more than ever. “If he isn’t in the music program, how do you two know each other? You guys must know each other pretty well to be partying together.”

And with that, the calm shattered. (Y/N)’s laughter roared through the campus, startling a few students in their vicinity. Her giggles came out shallow as she gasped for breath, her hands seeking support against Spencer’s arm. He felt the heat of them and almost flinched from how much he immediately craved more of her touch, but he pushed the thought away in favor of his confusion.

Once she had settled down enough to speak, (Y/N) wiped pooling tears from her eyes and chuckled. “Oh my god, he was talking about my sister’s birthday party, Cutie. He works at the restaurant we hosted it at.”

And then he froze. His feet stopped moving and he caught her by the arm to keep her from going any further.

“The Tea Room?”

She nodded, her smile fading to something more confused.

Spencer’s mind was racing. Granted, he hadn’t mentioned his hunch about the birthday party theory to her, but this was too weird to be coincidence. 

Something didn’t fit, however.

They hadn’t interviewed him.

“Is he a waiter or something?”

(Y/N)’s frown deepened, the question obvious in her eyes. “No, he works in the back. Not sure what he does, though.” She paused. “Why?”

Spencer’s grip loosened. He chalked it up to his jealousy clouding his judgement and making him eager to pin the guy with some sort of flaw.

“Nothing. Just a weird thought I had.”

“You seem to have a lot of those, Cutie.”

And he laughed, full and loud, his mind relaxing enough to enjoy their time together.

Until another thought hit him.

“Wait,” he spoke, stopping (Y/N) again. “If he works in the back, how did he know you were having a birthday party?”

Her eyes narrowed when she spoke, her tone becoming uneasy as the conversation progressed.

“He was the one who brought out the cake.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Spencer had ushered (Y/N) into the passenger seat and sped to Quantico in record time. 

A mantra of ‘I was right’ spun through his head as he pulled her upstairs to Hotch’s office to spill what he knew. The team had immediately sprung into action, Penelope finding an address before the team could even load into their cars. (Y/N) had badgered Spencer repeatedly to explain before she snapped, grabbing him by arm to slow him down from where he was pacing through the meeting room.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

It was like a dam had broken inside of him. He spilled everything, his theory, his profile, his investigation.

‘I was right.’

(Y/N) had stopped asking then. Stopped _talking_ really, sitting in her chair in complete silence. Spencer couldn’t blame her, knowing what it was like for someone you thought you knew to be someone completely different.

Within an hour, Emily had burst into the room, panting with a smile. “We got him.”

(Y/N) had sighed in relief and Spencer grinned.

‘I was right.’

\--------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) had decided not to stay for the debriefing, insisting she’d rather go home. Her mood seemed rather somber considering the good news. Spencer didn’t push her, driving her back to her apartment without a word.

When they arrived, she swept into the kitchen for a drink while he went and grabbed his go-bag from her guest room. It hit him then, that he had no reason to be here anymore and suddenly his mood matched hers.

He hadn’t considered that he would eventually have to part ways with her, too focused on catching Rodney to think about what would come next.

It felt like a consequence. Leaving her was like a punishment, and it stung him. He cursed himself for being eager to solve the case, then immediately sunk into the guilt of the thought. Of course he was excited about it being solved. (Y/N) was safe and no longer had to worry about him being just around the corner. That was all he could ask for.

So why did he feel so rotten.

He stood in the middle of her living room, taking one last look around before his eyes fell on her. She seemed small. She was playing with her hands, not meeting his eyes and his heart ached.

“So,” he cleared his throat. “I’m really glad we-”

She surged forward, pulling him into a hug. Her arms locked around his center and she buried her head in his chest. Spencer stilled, completely unsure of what to do.

He didn’t touch people.

People didn’t touch him.

He settled on wrapping his arms around her shoulders, laying his cheek across the top of her head. In this position, their height difference was more obvious, and he loved how easy it was to fold her in his embrace. He soaked in the feeling of her, knowing it would end and that he would leave and that he would never do this again.

It was over far too soon, and she was pulling away much quicker than he would have preferred. She kept her arms around his middle, and his remained around her. They locked eyes and for a moment he thought she might move closer and his breath stuttered at the idea.

But then she was untangling herself from him, a shy flush creeping up her cheeks. She looked at him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you.”

He sunk his hands into his pockets, nodding. “Of course.”

Spencer turned, opening the door to her apartment and stepping out. He lingered on the threshold, throwing one last glance over his shoulder. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

A laugh. 

“Anytime, Dr. Cutie.”

And he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hadn't planned on uploading this so soon after the last chapter, but I'm really excited to move on to the next phase of this! So I figured I'd just post this and let it simmer ;)  
> Anyway, you guys (as usual) have been so kind and wonderful and amazing and I adore every single one of you. Your comments make my day (my whole WEEK, really), and they always bring a smile to my face.   
> Remember to reflect that kindness inwards and take care of yourself! Nothing is more important than your own happiness! Value yourself!  
> If ever you need something, let me know.  
> All my love xx


	10. Chapter Ten

The first night had been hard.

Spencer seemed bothered by his own space, everything dim in comparison to what he had become accustomed to. 

When he showered, he couldn’t help but frown at the lack of frilly scented soaps.

When he laid in bed, he couldn’t help but feel sour at how firm his bed felt in comparison to (Y/N)’s guest room.

And when he drifted off to sleep, he felt a deep longing for the sound of clumsy hands on a piano pulling him under.

The day after seemed just as bleary. Spencer had spent 15 minutes staring in distaste at the contents in his fridge, finding nothing suitable for breakfast. He decided to skip out and spent the entire morning with a growling stomach that had become accustomed to hearty meals every morning.

Work was just as mind-numbing. Hotch assigned him the case paperwork, insisting it be finished by the end of the day so they could file everything away and settle it. He was already halfway through the file by 10:30, and he half wondered if he could slip away for an early lunch.

Then something caught his eye.

A paper. Tucked neatly into the folder. 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Except it was.

Now he may not have a photographic memory (eidetic, thank you very much), but he would recognize that handwriting anywhere. He’d spent enough time nosing over Y/N’s lecture notes looking for mistakes to be sure of that.

Spencer yanked at the page, flattening it out hurriedly. It was her official statement from the first night they met. His eyes flew over the page quickly, and then again as his mouth filled with something bitter at the words.

‘Name: (Y/N) (Y/L/N)  
Statement: I was minding my business when I was pulled over and apprehended. Two very handsome men saw to my arrest and I was taken to _the_ FBI (which feels like overkill, in my opinion) and questioned by the _very_ handsome Dr. Reid. It’s a shame this place keeps him busy, I’d hate to never get a proper date from this. Not that being chained to a table for hours isn’t romantic, I just think Dr. Reid and I would benefit from some privacy (and maybe less cop talk on his part, but there’s always room for improvement I guess). I was detained for a few hours before being released. This statement, to my knowledge, is an accurate recollection of…’

And Spencer knew the rest was just official jargon. His throat felt tight.

Something ripped open in his chest.  
\------------------------------------------------------

It had been a month since then, and Spencer’s disposition hadn’t brightened in the slightest. His mood seemed short and tempered at work, and he had declined all invitations to the last team bonding night. JJ had taken notice immediately and pushed him about it, to no avail.

Spencer didn’t want to talk about it.

On exactly one million occasions had he almost begged Penelope to dig up a phone number for him, but he always found he didn’t know what to say. How do you check in on someone you have no business checking in on?

Today was especially miserable. Everything reminded him of what he no longer had. The music on the radio from his morning drive to work, the new receptionist downstairs whose hair looked almost identical to (Y/N)’s, everything.

It was maddening.

So when Derek strolled up to his desk with a file in hand, chirping “We’ve got a case, Pretty Boy”, Spencer had just about had it.

Sulking, he followed Morgan upstairs to the meeting room. He didn’t offer his usual insight or obscurities and it was obvious the team knew something was wrong between all the concerned glances they were throwing at him, but he couldn’t care less.

He managed to drown out the chatter until Hotch declared, “Wheels up in 30.”

And off they went.

\----------------------------------------------

Serial killer in Maine, spanning across multiple cities. Targeted upper-class couples, most of whom didn’t have children. Same M.O. across all victims. 

Blah, blah, blah.

It was pretty standard. Nothing the team hadn’t seen before and Spencer felt a bit better knowing they wouldn’t need him too much for something so practical. He did his part of course, narrowing down a comfort zone for abductions and sketching out a geographical profile. But he didn’t participate in any extra conversation or interviews.

Everything just felt so miserable these days. He had tried doing all kinds of things to keep his mind off of (Y/N), but nothing seemed to hold up. It was like joy had been stripped from everything. It was all so bland now.

Emily had invited him to grab coffee after the first day, but he had declined, promising a rain check they both knew he wouldn’t take.

JJ had asked him to grab a bite with the whole team the next day. And once again, he said no.

By the third day, everyone had figured it was best to leave him be. He felt buried by work, which felt ridiculous considering how often they ran into cases like this.

It felt like every little thing mattered ten times more now.

It was when he was hunched over the crime scene photos, eyes burning from strain that he cracked. He peeked around to be sure no one was near before whipping out his cellphone to dial a number he knew well.

Garcia answered within two rings.

“Hello my grumpy little angel, talk to Mama Garcia. What’s on your mind?”

Despite himself, Spencer smiled. “We might have to save the therapy session until later.” He paused then, already regretting the call. “Could you do me a favor?”

Penelope’s voice was encouraging. Just like always. “Of course I can, sugar plum. Name it.”

Spencer steeled himself, drawing a long breath.

“I need you to find a phone number for me.”

\------------------------------------------------------

Spencer paced the length of his hotel room. The rest of the team was asleep in their respective rooms so he had no way of seeking out moral support from them.

Not that he would, of course. He was a grown man. He didn’t need help with something so minor.

Something minor like calling a girl.

 _The_ girl.

Garcia has only harassed him a little bit about what she was calling his “little crush”. He had rolled his eyes, ending the call before it had gone too far.

It wasn’t a crush.

Absolutely not.

No.

No?

Spencer swore his heart had fallen into his stomach. He had picked up the phone twice in the last twenty minutes, dialing the numbers and _almost_ pressing ‘call’ before chickening out both times. 

Why was this so difficult? Spencer had made plenty of phone calls, this should be no different.

Except it totally was. What was he even supposed to say?

His pacing stopped. He eyed the scrap of paper he had scribbled the digits onto. 

It had to be now. Now or never. No sense in putting it off. It was already late enough as it is.

He yanked his phone out of his pocket before he could second guess himself.

He dialed speedily, pushing the phone to his ear. The ringing only heightened his anxiety and he could feel his jaw set in a firm line.

Ring.

Ring.

Spencer started to feel silly. Surely she wouldn’t be awake this late. Even if she was, she may not want to hear from him.

Ring.

Spencer’s hand shook.

Ring.

‘Bad idea,’ he decided, moving to end the call.

“Hello?”

Spencer gaped. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. About what he would say. He didn’t even think she would answer.

Her tone was confused now as she repeated herself. “Hello?”

Spencer rushed to answer. “Hi.”

A moment of silence, and he wanted to kick himself at how ridiculous he sounded. He hadn’t even bothered to say who it was.

He cleared his throat. “This is-“

“Spencer?”

And wow. He didn’t realize how much he missed hearing her say his name. Despite himself, a small smile curled his lips.

“Uh, yeah,” he spoke through a tiny grin. “I was just calling to check in on you. See how you were doing after everything.”

He could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “Awe, Dr. Cutie wants to check in on little old me?”

Spencer had missed this. He had missed it so badly.

“I do.”

He heard (Y/N) shuffle around through the receiver and he imagined she was up late watching that ridiculous crime show she liked. 

“Well in that case, I’m doing well. No new kidnapping threats, so that’s been a real treat.” Her voice softened then. “How about you, Handsome?”

JJ had asked him that. Derek had asked him that. Emily had asked him that. Rossi had asked him that. Garcia had asked him that. Hell, even _Hotch_ had asked him that.

But coming from her, it felt so real and it made him feel so vulnerable.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “To be honest, I’ve missed our little talks.”

Her voice was like spring rain, filling his ears with sweet words and soft syllables.

“So have I.”

They both went quiet then, Spencer’s face splitting into a grin that hurt his cheeks. 

But he knew he couldn’t keep her on the phone. He had checked on her. That’s all he had promised to do. That’s all he was _allowed_ to do without crossing any professional boundaries.

Spencer closed his eyes in defeat, smile falling. “Well, I’ll let you-“

“Have I ever told you about the time I got stranded on the river for 7 hours?”

Spencer couldn’t help it.

He laughed.

Loud and boisterous and noisy. He clamped a hand over his mouth to keep it as quiet as he could manage, but it still slipped through the gaps between his fingers.

Still laughing, he said, “I don’t think you have.”

“Well buckle up, Cutie. This is one hell of a story.”

And on she rambled, voice filling his ears and chest into the late hours.

That night, Spencer slept peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long and I’m so sorry about that! I struggled to think of a good way to bring them back to each other without it being awkward. Thank you for all of the support on both this AND my mini series (which has ONE part left). You all are amazing and I’ve been so lucky to share this with such kind people.
> 
> Question: What are some neat things about you? I feel like I don’t know enough about you guys! 
> 
> Remember it’s always okay to set boundaries with people and enforce them! Don’t sacrifice your comfort for the sake of politeness. You deserve better!  
> All my love xx


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